


Forever Apart

by suyari



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Gen, Kaiju, Kid Fic, Lucky Seven - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-20
Updated: 2014-02-20
Packaged: 2018-01-13 03:56:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1211803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suyari/pseuds/suyari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Chuck's first day at yet another new school. Nothing goes right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forever Apart

**Author's Note:**

> No, that is not Yancy and Raleigh.

Chuck shuffles in the doorway and wishes he didn't have to do this every time they went somewhere new. No matter where they go, he always stands out. Maybe for some, the red hair and freckles would have been enough. There's a constellation of them across his nose and cheeks that every woman over forty has always called ' _Darling!_ ' He's not very tall for his age, and he's scrappy so he's not very big either, which always makes the bully types zero in on him for fights. He gets into at least three on his first day anywhere. And today will be no different.

He stands out more because he's not wearing any fancy sneakers or printed tees with Jaegers on them. He's got simple canvas and plain military grey, because that's what Dad knows how to wash. Khakis or denims round out the extent of his wardrobe, and his socks never match. Usually one is bigger than the other, but sometimes the colors are not quite the same. He puts them together himself because Dad and Uncle Scott don't have the time, and he has nothing but. Especially during transfer weeks, when they spend three days closing up in one Shatterdome, one traveling and the next three settling into the new one. Chuck likes transfer weeks the most, because they're always exciting. For all that they're military bases designed specifically to house Jaegers and their crews, no two Shatterdomes are alike - like snowflakes - and he loves to learn his way around them and see who's stationed where.

Everybody knows him. The Hansens' kid. Herc's son. Scott's nephew. Not too many people know his name, but that's okay because it means he can ignore them when they shout at him for misbehaving and sometimes it even works to help him get out of trouble with Dad.

He stands out because he isn't like the other kids. Sometimes it's because of what he doesn't have and others because of what he _does_. His father is a Jaeger pilot and it's in the contract somewhere that Jaeger pilots families get evacuated first with the other important people. But, in order for evacuations to go smoothly and ensure everyone who's meant to be saved is saved, it means Chuck has to wear some things no other kids have to. The dog tags around his neck are mandatory. He has three tags, not two like pilots. A replicated tag of his father's, one of his uncle's, and one in the middle with a chip on it that has all his information for scanning purposes.

His jacket is leather and it has patches on it. Standard ones, military grade, that townie kids never even get to see let alone can hope to have. The PPDC insignia. Lucky Seven's brand. **HANSEN, C.** in big bold letters on a patch over his heart. It used to be just velcro, and he could rip it off before going into the classroom, but Dad caught him doing it once and sewed them all on. He'd used some kind of glue too to be extra sure Chuck couldn't save himself from the humiliation. He'd wrecked two jackets in a row before he'd figured _that_ out.

The cadet cap from his dad's RMC days he wears just because he can hide underneath it. He doesn't remember where he found it, just did one day. Dad never said he couldn't wear it, and somewhere along the line it'd become Chuck's. He likes to tug it down low over his eyes so he doesn't have to look at anyone when he enters or leaves a room. Most times, it works.

The heavy duty, helmet bag he uses for a schoolbag is also not something normal kids have. Their's are all bright colors and weird materials and hangy tassle things with charm bits and keys hanging out everywhere. It's almost bigger than he is, and holds his stuff just fine. He doesn't have much by way of books anyway, because they move around so much. And half of what he has in his notebooks he didn't learn in English anyway.

The teacher introduces him to the class and he avoids looking at anyone. Doesn't offer any introduction himself, doesn't wave or acknowledge anyone. It's a lot safer to be neutral in new territory, he's learned. Someone's always going to want to beat you up, but if you don't make it easy for them to approach, it makes picking a fight that much harder.

He thinks it's a stupid waste of time to have recess. But, everywhere does. He always finds a nice corner to sit in, back to the wall for the added security. With his knees up against his chest and his hat down, he can mostly ignore all the stupid kids and their comments. They don't always make it easy.

"Wanna play?" someone asks, shoving a replica of Lucky under the brim of his hat.

Chuck raises his head to see a blond kid with glasses. He doesn't look like he's going to start trouble but Chuck isn't a very good judge of people, and he has a bad habit of rubbing them the wrong way regardless.

"No thanks."

Of course he wants to play. He _always_ wants to play. But the thing is, kids don't ever play any Jaeger-Kaiju games right and they get mad when Chuck corrects them. Chuck is tired of correcting them. Like he's tired of not knowing what anyone is talking about, or what the rules are in social situations, or how to do really simple things that seem to come naturally to everyone else. He's tired of never getting invited anywhere. Not that he cares, because parties are stupid wastes of time and he has studying to do. He has to learn _everything_ if he's gonna be a pilot one day. He doesn't have time to waste like these kids do. But the distance it creates still makes it difficult to interact with them day to day - even for the short while Chuck is forced to be in their company. And groups of kids turn on outsiders faster than anything Chuck's ever seen. It'd be a lot easier if they invited him so he could just turn them down and have it over and done with all in one go.

"You can play with Lucky," the kid insists. "I know you like him." He pokes Chuck's jacket over Lucky's brand. His brand. A weight that will never go away. Because he is a Jaeger pilot's kid and that makes him a V.I.P. whether he likes it or not. It means armed guards and mess hall food and wires over the walls he's not allowed to go beyond. Nothing green is ever found _inside_ a Shatterdome unless it's Jaeger warpaint. Sometimes Chuck can't remember what grass even smells like. Not that he cares. Nature is for freebird types who hate the war and protest and other stupid crap that just gets in the way of people like Dad and Uncle Scott doing their jobs to _save_ their stupid lives.

"Lucky is a girl," he informs the kid, who blinks at him dumbly. "All Jaegers are girls, don't you know anything?"

"Jaegers can be boys too!" the kid snaps back, embarrassed.

Chuck rolls his eyes. "No they can't. That's not how it works." He rocks his heels, toes of his canvases lifting free of the ground. "Just leave me alone. I don't have time for dumb kids who don't even know that Jaegers are all sheilas."

He has to sit in the corner - which he was doing already, thanks - for making the kid cry. Chuck doesn't care though, because it means that kids aren't allowed to approach him while he's being punished and that suits him just fine.

"Hey, Hansen!"

Chuck sighs, shoulders drooping only slightly a moment, before he turns and pulls himself to his full height. He puffs out his chest and raises his chin like a Jaeger pilot and waits.

The group of kids are looking at him like he's a freak - which isn't anything new. Chuck has been all over the world and one thing's for sure: all kids are the same dumb animal. Even Kaiju have more brains. "What?" he snaps, crossing his arms and sticking a leg out to tap his foot impatiently against the ground. "I don't have all day!"

It has the desired effect. Thing one storms over and looms like he's trying to intimidate Chuck. Which is just ridiculous because Chuck has seen Kaiju _up close_ and there is no going back from that. Especially not for some backwards, witless townie boy with no future. He's lucky he's still breathing really, and it's only because of people like Chuck's Dad and Uncle Scott. He doesn't owe this kid anything. But this kid sure does owe a lot to everyone else who has to tolerate him.

"You made my cousin cry!"

Chuck snorts. "Can't help some people."

"You think you're so smart," Thing one says, grabbing him by the shirtfront. "Just 'cause you've got a stupid accent."

He's older than Chuck and bigger besides, but Chuck's fought bigger kids, and more of them at once as well. He hasn't always won, but that's beside the point. "Don't need an accent to be smarter than a townie hick," he replies. "You lot have that covered all on your own."

The fist is surprisingly well thrown. Chuck hadn't been expecting that. He's so surprised that Thing one gets him right in the face. But, even well thrown, it's sloppy positioning and Chuck bleeds, but nothing breaks. He knows a break from a stinging blow by now.

He laughs, blood getting in his teeth, and grins at him. "Is that the best you got? I've met little girls can punch harder than you!"

Thing one swings again, but Chuck's prepared this time. He brings his arm up, careful to keep his forearm straight and strong and uses it to deflect the punch. He kicks back, because he has more leverage that way and it gets the kid away from him. But the idiot doesn't let go, dragging Chuck down to the ground with him. The inevitable roll in the dirt ensues. 

It gets him more time alone at any rate. Sitting on a chair outside the principal's office. There's a thing in America called Detention. Chuck's always thought it sounded like a prison. He learned early on that that was more or less what kids were expected to believe, and even if it was for some, Chuck's never found it to be all that bad. He rather enjoys detention. It's his favorite part of the school day.

He runs into his first real batch of trouble in class. The teacher wants to talk about the last Kaiju battle and what Jaegers mean to the world. Chuck always hates these discussions because they _never_ get it. And it happens suddenly, randomly in almost every school he attends at some point. Like they expect him to give up PPDC secrets because he wants to show off and make friends. Joke's always on them.

He tries to keep out of it. He really does. He closes his eyes, and lowers his head to his arms, and asks to go to the bathroom and counts to three hundred. But, enough is enough, really.

"That's not how it works," he sighs, legs crossed, feet propped up on the desk. He's slumped in his chair, bored out of his mind and he just wants to go home, where he can help the J-crew do maintenance on Lucky, and charm a few canteen ladies into some sweets. If he's _really_ lucky, he'll be able to sit in the Kwoon and watch a few matches, learn more about drift compatibility so he'll be ready. He needs to be able to find his co-pilot as soon as possible in Academy, and there's only one surefire way to do that. And because he is going to be the best Jaeger pilot there ever was, he is going to need the best co-pilot there is. So he has to be diligent about the important stuff. Learning fractions is fine, but what he _really_ needs to learn is how to spin a Bō properly.

"Is that what you wanted to hear?"

The teacher blinks at him, half innocent, half honestly surprised.

"Charles-"

"It's Chuck."

" _Charles_ -"

Chuck makes an aggrieved sound and drops his legs. "Look, we can pretend like you're really interested in this stuff, or you can own up to being a Jaegerfly and just ask me to introduce you to some pilots."

The kids in the class look back and forth between Chuck and their teacher, stunned. Chuck stares her down until she goes red and points at the door. "Mr. Hansen-!"

"Yeah, yeah..." he sighs, getting up and taking his things. "I'll head on over to the Principal's office. Not that it's gonna help. My dad's not going to show up, no matter what you tell him."

He's halfway down the hall when the sirens go off. With a groan, he sinks back into the wall and waits. In no time, his class is exiting in straight lines. His teacher grabs him by the shoulders and tries to take his hand but he just shrugs her off. He can follow on his own, and does, if lazily. Kaiju alarms don't scare him. Not like anyone is ever safe in a bunker anyway. It hadn't helped his mother.

Chuck sits on the concrete floor, legs extended and fiddles with his dog tags. Kids are crying and huddling together in groups. Some of them look at him like there's something wrong with him, ignorant of the fact that _they're_ the strange ones. The world outside the Shatterdome never makes sense. It's all wild and chaotic and full of people willing to step over each other just to make it to safety, completely ignoring the people who clearly need the help.

The vibrations thrum up through the floor and the lights swing violently overhead. Chuck can tell from the lack of severity that the Kaiju's nowhere close. He raises his hand. Several staff stare at it like they've never seen one before.

"Can I go to the bathroom?"

You'd think they'd never heard of one from the looks he gets. He's seen the look before, but generally only when there's a language barrier and he's too tired to try and make himself understood.

They don't let him go to the bathroom.

It's fine though, because he didn't have to use it really. He just wanted to stretch his legs and get away from the noise.

The doors of the bunker ring with sharp slams that Chuck recognizes. "This is the PPDC. Open the door!" an authoritative voice commands through the thick metal. It isn't as good as Stacker would have done it. Especially since no one moves.

Chuck finishes his sandwich and stands, shouldering his bag. "Well, it's been fun," he says to no one in particular and heads for it.

A teacher makes a grab for him, and he pauses because people can do really stupid things when they're scared and his dad will lose his shit if there are fingerprints on him again.

"OPEN THE DOOR!" comes the command again. "NOW!"

"If no one's gonna do that, I'll do it," he offers. 

It seems to galvanize some of the adults. An older man jumps up and moves to comply. The crossbeams of flashlights suddenly flood the room until they land on Chuck. The click of metal, Chuck knows, are rifles being raised. No one else seems to know this though, because they start shrieking when the retrieval team rushes in. They surround Chuck and the teacher who is now clutching him like a shield.

"If you shoot me my dad is gonna kill you," he reminds them helpfully.

"Hands in the air!"

"Let go of the kid!"

They don't mean to frighten people, Chuck knows. But desperate people often do desperate things. He knows that very well. The child of a Jaeger pilot is first and foremost a rare thing. There are very few of them, though he's never met them all. And even if the kids don't ever know they're different, adults are always sure of their value. Kidnappings and hostage situations - especially during Kaiju rampages - were just part of the deal.

The teacher doesn't let him go until the barrel of a rifle lines up with the back of his head. And then he shoves Chuck, who only stumbles a little, at the group in combat uniform.

"It's not that close," Chuck tells them as they surround him and herd him out of the bunker. There's a chopper waiting, he can hear the blades still whirling in readiness.

No one listens to him.

Not that it matters. Because the ground trembles and Chuck turns and there is Lucky Seven, marching up the hillside. She leaves indentations in the rocky surface and Chuck groans and drops his face into his hand. Evacuations are always the most embarrassing when Dad and Uncle Scott storm the shore to get to him.

He knows it means the battle went sour and he's probably going to have to sleep in their room until the adrenaline wears off. Not that he has a room of his own per se, more like a converted storage closet, but it helps when they're up and moving at weird hours.

The guards stand down and the chopper blades slow to a stop. If Lucky is here, either the battle is over, or his family's gone insane - which, given Chuck's life, it usually means both.

By the time his dad and uncle are jogging the distance from Lucky to them, half the school has spilled out of the shelter. "Chuck!" his father cries, drivesuit clopping as his feet pound over the pavement in the last sprint.

Chuck is used to this. His father doesn't handle it well when he's off base during a Kaiju attack. Usually it means further embarrassment likely to be blown up all over every type of media internationally within hours. But when he's at school...

He huffs as he's swept up and held close. His father's hand is in his hair and he tucks him close like a little kid and Chuck just wants to die. He can feel his father's pulse surging against his neck, and the erratic rise and fall of his chest as he crushes the air out of him. Uncle Scott slams into them, arms about them and presses his face to the side of Chuck's not squashed against his Dad.

"You okay, kiddo?" he rasps, and Chuck can see the wild panic of a drift gone FUBAR. Scratch that. He'll be sleeping where they can see him, and eating where they can see him, and everything else where they can see him for a whole week. Possibly more if the ghost drift is strong. He suspects it might be.

"Lemme go!" he gasps, wiggling, as the rest of the school makes it out and phones start flipping open. The _last_ thing he needs is some over emotional fluff piece haunting him all the way to his next school. "Dad! I can't-" He gasps in horror and points at Lucky, body rigid with shock. "What the _hell_ did you do to her?!" he shouts. "Those were brand new shock absorbers!!"

His dad laughs and sets him on his feet. Two hands find their way into his hair and ruffle. It's sticking up all crazy like by the time they withdraw, he knows this. But he's more concerned about the breach of claw marks left across Lucky's anterior hull than the chance bad photograph. Even if it will end up everywhere in no time at all.

"Come on, Charlie," Uncle Scott says, throwing an arm around him and tugging him into a tight sideways hug. "We have to head back."

"Sir," a brave young (stupid) soldier interrupts, causing Lucky's co-pilots to turn on him like a pair of vipers in a hole. He shrinks back. "The Jumphawks..."

"She's not _that_ damaged," Uncle Scott says, brushing him off.

"We can take-" He swallows roughly as they step toward him in perfect synchronization, pushing Chuck behind them. He sighs and tosses his schoolbag at the poor idiot. Who manages to catch it without accidentally shooting anyone, so points for him.

"It's cool," Chuck tells him. "Lucky'll give me a lift."

It's against protocol, but it isn't the first time he's ridden along. Stacker will chew them out when they get back, they all know it, but for the moment, with the Kaiju dead, it's just formality. Which, honestly, Hansens have never been good at. It's a family standard that runs so deeply it can't even be traced. The military has never been a fan of Hansens, because they could get mouthy and obstinate, but outright insubordination was a gray area they tended to avoid.

He shoves his hat in his pocket and combs his fingers through his hair before assuming position between Lucky's pilots. They each wrap an arm about him and Chuck's head is high as they march off toward her.

He already knows how things will go when he's forced to come back. Kids will try to be his friend. Their parents will encourage them to lure him into their homes. Teachers will treat him especially nice. But he will never quite fit in, because he was never meant to. Chuck has no interest in the petty things that fill lesser children's time. He has a deadline to meet. An academy seat to claim. A co-pilot to find. And a Jaeger to earn.

Kaiju wait for no one.


End file.
